Seeing Green
by a mysterious stranger
Summary: Harry has suffered years of abuse at the hands of his cousin, and the one boy he's ever really felt for completely hates him. In his sixth year, can he finally overcome his troubled past and find the strength to be himself? M for sexual content.HP/DM
1. Intro

Seeing Green.

_Author's Note, Jan 23, 2013_: Hi all! This is a fic I started writing a couple of years ago, but RL got in the way and I never finished it. An alert on my email reminded me of its existance today, and after re-reading what I began, and the reviews, I felt bad for leaving you all hanging before we'd even got to the juicy bits! So I decided to finish it. If you're beginning this from Chapter 6, I'll let you know that I've decided to edit the first five chapters - however, the key story will remain exactly the same, just going to tidy it up a bit, and perhaps expand a little in some places. If you don't want to, don't worry! You'll still be up to date. Enjoy and review!

_Original Authors' Note, Dec 12, 2011_: Okay, so since my story will use the same characters and /some/ of the same storyline as the original books, I thought I'd better write a brief introduction to give a clear idea of where we're at at the beginning of our story. So here it is! Hope you enjoy!

And, of course:  
>Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters, plot points etc. are the work of J.K Rowling, and not me. I'm only spicing it up a bit :)<p>

**Dudley's denial and the years that followed.**

"Get up, get up!"

Harry grimaced as he forced his eyes open, only for them to be filled with dust and cobwebs. He squinted, lifting his hands to cover his ears against the loud thumping that was coming from the ceiling - or, more accurately, the floorboards of the staircase above Harry's head.

"Alright, alright," he shouted back to his cousin, opening the tiny trapdoor in the wall beside him and climbing out of his cupboard into the hallway. He ruffled his hand through his jet-black hair, shaking loose the cobwebs that clung there and pushed his glasses onto his face, his vision swimming into focus just as his fat, blonde cousin drew level with him.

"Took you long enough," Dudley said, his voice filled with animosity, "Are you aiming for a punishment, Harry?"

The smaller boy made no response, just stared at the floorboards at his feet. Dudley chuckled softly, stepping closer to Harry and raising one hand to stroke him across the cheek.

"You like getting punished, don't you Harry?"

When Harry didn't respond, Dudley's eyes became fierce, and he scowled, dropping his hand to Harry's crotch and taking a firm hold of him. He tightened his grip, and Harry winced.

"I said, you like it. Don't you?"

"Y.. yes." Harry murmured, his eyes watering with pain. Over the last few months, his cousins' daily beatings and slander had turned into something much worse. Dudley had had every prejudice possible instilled loudly and forcefully into him by his father, and he knew with every inch of his tiny brain that it was wrong, so wrong to be a faggot. So when he started checking out the figures at his school, and found he was only interested in the more masculine ones, he turned on Harry. He couldn't let anyone normal know about these.. these ideas, could he?

But his cousin, on the other hand, was fair game, and easy to keep quiet.

Harry had accepted it. What could he do? Vernon and Petunia would never believe it of their special little boy, no more than they acknowledged any of his other foul behaviour. But he did think it just pushed the point of cruelty when Dudley woke him up so early after keeping him up so late the night before.

He often dreamed of being strong, powerful enough to defend himself against this treatment, to be able to stop Dudley's nighttime visits, to stand up to his Aunt and Uncle and make them see what was going on! But he was just measly, miserable Harry Potter; parentless and friendless. Alone.

That was the day the letter came.

Harry stared up at the castle in shock. He had never seen anything so huge in his life! His reluctant guardians never took him to any sight seeing spots, and he wasn't allowed to watch television. Still glowing with the joy of being free from Dudley for the whole school term, and the memory of the curly pigs' tail the giant, Hagrid, had planted on his fat arse, the sight of the magical castle and the hundred tiny sailboats waiting to take them across the lake to it was almost too much.

"And don't even get me _started_ on the boys," Harry thought aloud, his green eyes trailing after a tall, athletic looking brunette, who looked a few years older than Harry. His gaze wandered over the red insignia on his chest, down the boys robes, to the broomstick he carried in his hand. A broomstick? Really?

"What'd you say?" Ron asked, his mouth full of chocolate frog. Harry had met the red-haired boy on the train, and he seemed nice enough. They shared a boat, and where soon standing in front of the doors to the great hall, with identical, intimidated looking expressions.

"Is it true?" A silky voice provided a welcome interruption from Harry's left, and he turned to stare, momentarily stunned, at the gorgeous, blonde haired boy who'd spoken, "You're Harry Potter?"  
>"Uh, yeah." Hagrid had told Harry a little of his past, but scarcely enough to be able to fully comprehend the level of his fame in the wizarding world. It would take some getting used to, the way people knew his name before he'd ever spoken to them.<br>The other boy glanced at Ron, who was still stuffing his face with pie. He cleared his throat, and spoke conspiratorially to Harry, "You'll soon learn that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. I can help you there. Draco Malfoy," he held out his hand, and Harry shook it, trying not to seem too enthusiastic to do so. Then they entered the great hall, Harry was sorted into Gryffindor, and the next time he and Malfoy met each others' eyes, there was an involuntary coldness between them. Their houses had thrown up a barrier to the two becoming friends, and they soon became the opposite.  
>Harry had Ron, though, and soon became fast friends with Hermione Granger, an extremely clever girl in their year.<p>

Not only that, but he made the quidditch team! And of course, the captain was that lovely brown-haired boy Harry had seen when he got off the train. But the incidents with Dudley were still too fresh, and Harry wasn't ready to let anyone else know the truth about him. After all, that was what had started the whole thing with Dudley, wasn't it, his cousin catching him looking at a magazine he'd stolen from the newsagency, staring, transfixed, at the men on the pages. His cousin had seen him as a viable target from that point on, and he wasn't about to give anyone else a reason to see him that way.

Five years went by, and every summer, Dumbledore would force Harry back to the Dursley's house, where the abuse would continue. Sure, he got a brief respite when Dudley thought he'd turn him into a poodle if he touched him, but as soon as the other boy found out he couldn't use magic outside of school, things became worse than ever.

So it happened that Harry reached his sixth year, scarred and wounded but resilient, having fought the dark lord again and again and not been defeated, and so a sense of hope still lived in the darkness of his heart. Maybe things could get better. He had lived through so much.. at some point something had to work.

Didn't it?

Authors Note: Well, there you have it. Keep your eyes peeled for chapter one, when things really begin!


	2. The boy who never lived

Seeing Green.

_Disclaimer:_ As I've said before, unfortunately, Harry isn't mine, and nor are the other canon characters.

I am just borrowing them and adding some hot, steamy goodness!

-

**The boy who never lived.**

"Come _on_ Harry, we're gonna be late for the train!" Ron bellowed over his shoulder as he disappeared into the brickwork, and Harry grinned, hastening to follow his ginger-haired best friend through the barrier at platform nine and three quarters, pushing his trolley before him.

Ron was beaming as he boarded the train, and so was Hermione. Of course they were, the two of them had both made prefect! Harry hadn't been surprised in the slightest when Dumbledore had chosen both of his best friends, and not him, for the role. He had long since thought it obvious that the man got some kind of sick thrill out of watching him suffer, otherwise he wouldn't send him back to that hellhole he was forced to call 'home,' every single Merlin-forsaken summer. Harry's hand unconsciously flicked to rest for a moment on his other arm, where the long, thin sleeve of the green shirt he was wearing covered purple, finger shaped bruises where Dudley had gripped his arm, yanking him backwards so he collided with his cousin, harder and harder and faster and... Harry shook his head, as though trying to dislodge the memory with the movement.

He climbed aboard the train, waving goodbye to Ron and Hermione, who said they had to sit in the prefects carriage, and choosing a compartment on his own. It didn't bother him - Harry was content to just stare awhile out the window, not really seeing what was beyond it. He was reliving the one, gorgeous memory he had that he could look back on and smile... and at the same time cringing, horrified.

It was of the year previously, when he'd been soaping himself clean after a match, relishing the feeling of the steamy water over his tired muscles. He had thought himself alone, having lingered a long time in the showers, but as he emerged from the cubicle, naught but a white, cotton towel wrapped tight around his waist, he had found Wood waiting for him.

Harry had long held warm, admiring feelings towards his good-looking, athletic quidditch captain, but he never imagined the older boy could share those desires. So after Gryffindors' last game of the year, and Woods' last game at Hogwarts, when he had slammed Harry up against the bathroom wall and roughly kissed him, Harry was shocked.

He could remember it all so clearly - the way Oliver had approached him without a word. His eyes were fixed on Harry's, preventing him from speaking, moving... even breathing was a struggle under that fiery gaze. The way his head spun, like he'd had one too many firewhiskeys, at the delicious, salty taste of Woods' tongue in his mouth. The older boys hands were all over his body, sliding over his chest; still bare from the shower he'd just taken. He gasped; the captain's fingers had suddenly moved southwards, trailing softly over the quickly growing bulge under the soft fabric of the towel. The chosen one let out a long, low moan, muffled by Olivers' lips against his, and the hand caressed the front of his towel again. The fingers tightened their grip, taking a firm hold of him and gently, but forcefully tugged on his prick, causing another moan of pleasure from Harry, whose breath was coming in short, loud bursts. He was harder then he could ever remember being, standing firmly at attention. A throb ran through his cock as Oliver hooked a finger under the waistline of his towel, yanking it roughly away from Harry's body and throwing it to the floor behind him. Olivers' eyes travelled hungrily up and down Harry's body, lingering on the formidable length of his prick. Slowly, he lifted a hand and with slightly trembling fingers, caressed the very tip of Harry's cock, causing waves of pleasure to run through it like electric shocks. A shiver coursed its way up his spine, and he met Woods' eyes with an expression of deep longing, somehow innocent from those wide, emerald orbs.

"I've wanted you for a long time, Harry," the quidditch captain spoke in a rough voice, "And I'll be damned if I'm leaving this school without fucking you first."

Harry let out a shout of desire as Wood grabbed his exposed prick firmly in his hand, using it to pull Harry tight against him, so that Harry could feel Wood's equally hard erection pressing up against his own.

They leaned toward each other again, kissed again. Sweeter this time, savouring it. Olivers' teeth tugged against his lip as they parted, and Harry's breath hitched once more. "God, I just wanna make you cum!" Wood whispered, his breath bowing hot against the Seekers' earlobe, and earning him another low moan.

"You FUCKING FAGGOTS! I knew it!" A cold, cruel voice rang out across the bathroom, and both boys looked up in shock, into the silvery, accusing eyes of Draco Malfoy.  
>Harry's head started spinning again, but this time the feeling was sickening, savage..<p>

"Malfoy.." he said, not sure what he intended to say afterwards. Whatever it was, he couldn't get it out. With one last, longing look at the boy he wanted more than any other, he turned, grabbed his trousers and ran, his cheeks and throat burning.

Later, in his dormitory, sitting on his bed on his own, he let himself cry.

"It would have been my first time," he said to no one, his bright green eyes full of sadness. If you didn't count Dudley, he was a virgin. He had come so close, just for a minute, to living, really living.

But he would remain the boy who never got to live.

Ok, what'd you think? I got lotsa subscriptions, but only one review! I wanna know what you're thinking, people! Until the next chapter...


	3. Things left unsaid and some that weren't

Alright, you guys asked for it - here's chapter three!  
>Thanks for the reviews, everyone :)<p>

_Disclaimer:_ As I've said before, these aren't my creations, I'm just borrowing them. J.K'll get them back- maybe a little more bruised and battered than before...

So, without any further ado, here is chapter three;

-

**Things Left Unsaid and Some That Weren't.**

Harry was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of the compartment door sliding open. He looked around, a little startled, and quickly became more so when he saw who it was.

"All on your own, Potter?" Malfoy asked, though it was obviously a rhetorical question - it was plain to see that Harry was alone.

"Oh yes," contined the other boy in a tone of dawning understanding that was clearly manufactured, "Weasley and the mudblood were both made prefects." He glanced casually at his own prefects' badge, glinting on the front of his robes. Harry's eyes were fixed on that chest for longer than necessary, and when he caught himself, he hurriedly forced his gaze back to Malfoy's face, fighting the blush that simmered just below the surface of his cheeks. Malfoy's expression was even more smug than usual, if such a thing was possible.

"Take a picture, Potter," he smirked, and Harry struggled to find a response, with little success.  
>He settled for a sigh.<p>

"What is this about, Malfoy?" he asked tiredly, dreading the answer. He had an idea what it could be about, considering the last time he'd seen Malfoy - coincidentally, the moment he had just been reminiscing about.

The Slytherin's grin widened, and he stepped into the compartment, sliding the door shut behind him.

"I think you know, Potter," he spoke in a low voice, taking another step toward Harry, whose heart was pounding so fast it felt as though it might explode from his chest, splattering gore all over the absolutely, stunningly beautiful boy who was rapidly moving closer to him.

"N.. no.." was all he managed to stutter out; Malfoy had leaned over him where he sat so that his face was now just inches from his own, the smirk still firmly in place.

"Don't think I've forgotten what happened at the end of last term," Malfoy said, in that same low voice, almost a whisper, "I know your little secret. So unless you want the entire school to know," Malfoy lifted a hand slowly to Harry's face, and slid one finger delicately from his eyebrow, around his cheek to the tip of his chin, where it stopped, and tilted Harry's face up toward his own, so that Harry had no choice but to stare straight into those stunning silver eyes; Malfoy leant closer still to the boy, so that their lips were only millimetres from touching;

"You'd better do exactly as I tell you from now on."

He straightened up, turned, and left the compartment without another word, sliding the door to and strolling casually up the corridor and out of sight.

Harry's head had been caught in that old familiar spin, and his mind flew back to the memories he'd, only minutes ago, been lost in.

To Woods' mouth on his; to Malfoy's voice echoing through the room; to those silver-grey eyes staring straight into his own.

"Malfoy..." he'd said, pleadingly, longingly. But he had no other words. He'd never been able to find them, the five long years he'd watched the boy in the classes they shared. To all the times they'd spat words of hatred and loathing at each other, he'd never had any trouble finding words then, oh no. Just not the ones he actually wanted to say.

Before he'd grabbed his trousers and fled, Harry hadn't been able to help but take one long look at Draco, his eyes pleading with the boy to understand all the things he'd never been able to say.

_But he won't_, thought Harry, shaking the last of the thought from his mind; the part he didn't want to remember. The few seconds, as he stared into Draco Malfoy's eyes, where it hadn't been horror or fear or loathing there; just sadness. Just the same miserable longing Harry's own eyes held.

_But he never will._

The long, shrill whistle that signified the trains arrival at Hogwarts sounded, and Harry stood, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I'd do anything for you, Draco," he said, his eyes sad.

-

Well, there you have it! What will Malfoy do? Will Harry really do whatever he says?  
>Ooh, it's all very exciting.. haha.<p>

Let me know what you think. :)

The next one will be soon, I promise!


	4. Where is my mind?

Look, I wrote the new one nice and quickly for you :) LOVE ME!  
>Haha, just kidding. You can if you want, though.<p>

_Disclaimer:_ They're not mine, damn it.

-

**Where is my mind?**

Harry's mind was still reeling over what Malfoy had said when he woke the next morning. He had stayed awake late into the night, thinking about what had happened on the train, and was no closer to figuring out what Malfoy was going to do next. He had Harry by the balls, and not the way the boy who lived wanted it. No one but Ron and Hermione knew about his sexual preferences, (and even they had no idea of his cousin's torture) and after Dudley's reaction to finding out, he lived in fear of his orientation becoming public knowledge. How many other Dudleys might there be out there? He wasn't going to risk finding out.

He was quiet as he walked to breakfast with his two best friends, and only picked at his scrambled eggs. It didn't take the other two long to realise something was wrong. But he wouldn't tell them anything, simply shaking his head and turning his eyes to his neglected breakfast.

All he could think about was the double potions class they had first. With Slytherin.

He had always watched Malfoy in classes, but this time was different. He couldn't remove his eyes from the blonde boys' face the entire class, which earned him several bollockings from Snape. But even that didn't catch Draco's attention. He didn't look at Harry once, the whole class, not even to smirk in triumph when Harry got in trouble.  
>Harry didn't understand it. Why was Malfoy ignoring him now, after what he'd said on the train? Harry had assumed he would take the first opportunity to use his newfound power to embarrass Harry publicly, or at the very least be making ample threats to do so. Harry had half feared he would wake to the whole of Slytherin knowing anyway, despite Malfoy threatening to use the knowledge as blackmail. But so far, he had recieved no taunts, or even knowing looks, and so he thought he was safe.<p>

For Now.

He knew it could only be a matter of time before Malfoy demanded something.

This apparent ignorance of Harry's presence must just be some new form of torture. But why would Malfoy think that would get to Harry? He prayed that the other boy hadn't seen what he was always scared must be apparent in his eyes, the love, the longing.

Merlin, did he just think love?

Harry shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the unwanted thought. He was NOT in love with Draco Malfoy. It was just that old 'wanting what you can't have' bit. Surely. Defintely.

He cast another long look at Draco, and sighed.

He knew deep down, he wanted the boy to approach him, order him to do something. At least he would hear his voice...  
>No! He had to stop having these ridiculous thoughts. He sounded like a lovesick schoolgirl, for christs' sake.<p>

Enough was enough. Malfoy and him... it would never happen, not in a million years!  
>He just needed to get that thought out of his head...<p>

-  
>short one - another soon, promise!<p> 


	5. You had me at 'Do my bidding, or else'

Okay, here's another chapter. Let me know what you think :)

_Disclaimer:_ Harry and Draco aren't mine (but maybe if I ask reaally nicely? I have the cage ready and everything! ... did I say cage? I meant, uh... something more tasteful than that, I swear!) I'm just borrowing!

-

**You had me at 'Do my bidding, or else!'**

The next day, when it began, seemed to hold no more promise than the last for Harry, as far as any kind of real attention from Malfoy went. The only thing that had changed since the day before was that Malfoy had stopped ignoring Harry completely, and gone back to his old routine of taunting and torturing the Gryffindor boy at every given opportunity.

At least, Harry thought glumly as he sat in herbology between Ron and Hermione, who were bickering furiously around him, Voldemort had yet to make an appearance that year, and Malfoy's threat (which didn't sound life-threatening in any way) had been the only one made to him. When you considered his track record, Harry thought he was doing fairly well.

He trailed a few paces behind his two best friends as they made their way toward the castle for dinner, too lost in his own thoughts to pay attention to the constant flirtatious arguments they shared.

I wish they would just hurry up and snog already, Harry thought, finding their behaviour annoying, rather than humourous, in his agitated mind frame, ..Stop badgering each other. It's so obvious to everyone except them..  
>The other two continued in through the front entrance, oblivious, of course, to Harry's thoughts.<p>

"Off to dinner, Potty?" came a snide voice from behind him, and Harry jumped, his heart beginning to pound at a rate much faster than usual, "worked up an appetite worrying, have we?"  
>The boy who lived whirled on the spot, staring defiantly into the silver eyes that taunted him.<p>

"What are you on about, Malfoy?" he retorted, trying to sound mildly irritated, rather than overwhelmingly flustered, about their encounter.

"Oh, don't give me that, Potter. You've been throwing worried looks at me since we spoke on the train. Wondering what I want from you... in exchange for me keeping your closet door closed." Malfoy grinned, stepping much closer to Harry than would usually be considered socially acceptable in casual conversation, much less a heated discussion with an old enemy.

"W.. well... what do you want? How do I know you haven't already told, anyway?" Harry demanded, stumbling in his haste to step backwards, greaten the gap between him and the gorgeous Slytherin boy. After a couple of steps, the back of his heel met the last of the short flight of stairs that led up to the doors, and his balance faltered. He recovered, and stood as straight as possible as Malfoy responded.

"Like I said, that's for me to know.. but I won't leave you completely in the dark. I'm not a cruel man," the pureblood grinned, his teeth shining brightly against the light of the newly risen moon.

"Be outside the Slytherin dormitory, nine-am sharp, tomorrow."

When Harry looked puzzled, his smile only widened.

"To carry my books, Potter. And don't worry," he added, turning to leave, "Not all your... tasks will be this menial. I'm just breaking in my new pet; making sure it's obedient."

He lifted a finger, stroking it from Harry's temple to the tip of his chin, the same way he had done on the train, sending a visible shudder through Harry's body.

"I'll see you in the morning. Don't be late."

-

Oh, sorry.. did you think there would be something a bit more terribly exciting in this chapter? It can't be all craziness all the time! Don't worry though, Draco has some interesting stuff up his sleeve.. poor Harry! review people!


	6. Obedience

_Author's Note, Jan 23, 2014_: Hi all! This is a fic I started writing a couple of years ago, but RL got in the way and I never finished it. An alert on my email reminded me of its existance today, and after re-reading what I began, and the reviews, I felt bad for leaving you all hanging before we'd even got to the juicy bits! So I decided to finish it. If you're beginning this from Chapter 6, I'll let you know that I've decided to edit the first five chapters - however, the key story will remain exactly the same, just going to tidy it up a bit, and perhaps expand a little in some places. If you don't want to, don't worry! You'll still be up to date. Enjoy and review!

_Disclaimer:_ Nope, HP and DM are still not mine :(

-

**Obedience**

Harry scraped his hand across the top of his scalp for the thousandth time, frowning at his ever-unruly hair. His hands shifted to straighten his glasses, then to smooth the front of his robes.

"What is with you this morning, Harry?" Seamus interrupted as he was pulling an invisible scrap of lint from his front, and bending to peer angrily at the material, seeking more offending dust, "Got your eye on someone, have ya?"

The teen laughed as though his remark had been an incredibly witty one, flecks of toothpaste flying from his open mouth, and Harry scowled at him, shifting out of range.

"No, I.. nothings' with me. Leave off, will you?"

Finnigan frowned at the uncharacteristic brashness from his friend, shrugging and turning back to the sink.

"Alright, calm down. You shouldn't get up this early, Harry. It makes a right grouch outta' ya."

As soon as he'd snapped, Harry had wanted to apologise... but the mention of time reminded him of a more pressing concern... the one that had him fussing in the first place.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and hurried from the room before his housemate noticed the stricken expression he wore and questioned him further.

He angled away from the Great Hall, toward the Owlery; he'd almost made it all the way up the winding flight of stairs when he remembered Hedwig was not waiting for him at the top - four years of friendship free of judgement or blame is hard to erase... hard not to look for. It was embarrassing, really - that owl had probably known more about him than either of his best friends.

Harry slumped against the stone wall. He wouldn't have time, now, to make it to the Great Hall for breakfast. He wasn't sure he wanted to go anyway, to have Ron and Hermione watching him leave, to see their shocked realisation when he arrived at class in Malfoy's tow, carrying his books... Merlin, the nerve of the boy. It wasn't enough to know he could control Harry, he had to make a public scene of it.

And what would Harry say, when his friends asked him why the hell he was obeying the Slytherins' every word. He was sure he wouldn't stop with making Harry courier his books, Malfoy was too cruel for that, despite what he might say.

With a sigh of resignation, Harry started toward the Slytherin dormitory to find out.

-

He wished he had procrastinated longer. Harry wondered what the time was... it was surely well past nine by now, and he was late for DADA. The stream of students that had wandered by him, staring curiously at the well-known Gryffindor, nervously waiting around in the depths of the dungeons, had slowed to the occasional hurrying latecomer, and there hadn't been all that many to begin with. Most would have gone directly from the Great Hall to their first class... which is what a niggling part of his mind was telling Harry Draco had done.

He wouldn't just leave me waiting here, Harry thought without any real certainty. It seemed the most likely, at this point, but he daren't leave... if Malfoy arrived, and Harry was not there, he would tell everyone. The Slytherins, at least, and that was as good as. He sat down, knowing he wasn't brave enough to leave, and the minutes ticked by, and the dungeon was silent.

-

Malfoy must have taken care to approach quietly, or perhaps he'd dosed off waiting, because he didn't hear the echo of footfall on stone before the silver eyed boy was standing over him.

"Good, Potter. Good boy."

His head snapped up sharply at the silky drawl, eyes wide with surprise, and he stuttered, trying to form a response. His first instinct was to stand, but as he made to rise his eyes fell level with the bulge in Malfoy's robes, and he rocked back against the stone involuntarily, a hot flush rising surprisingly quickly to his cheeks.

"Malfoy..." he managed, "You... you said nine."

"Mmm. I said for you to be here at nine, and to wait for me. I said nothing of when I would arrive."

The boy smirked, impressed with his own logic, and turned as though to leave, swivelling to face the Gryffindor after a pace.

"Oh yes. And carry these."

Harry let out a wheese of air as the books hit his stomach, perfectly tossed through the air. His hands closed around them automatically, and he rose. With an uncertain glance at his longstanding rival, he made to walk down the corridor, toward the upper floor.

"Stop."

The slick sound of Draco's voice brought him to a halt instantly, and he turned in place, fixing the other boy again with that uncertain expression.

"I didn't say we were going upstairs. Carry them inside."

The entrance to the commonroom was already sliding open, the bricks spinning in place with a gravelly sound, and tucking themselves away to reveal an arched doorway. Hesitantly, Harry stepped forward, pausing at the opening.

"Now."

Though Malfoy did not shout, the word was unmistakably a command, and Harry moved forward hurriedly into the room beyond. He didn't get much of a look; as he swept his eyes across the lavishly decorated room, much, predictably, in shades of green, Malfoy was coming through the arch and commanding him forward, and up the stairs. Before he really had a chance to think, he was in the boys dormitory, and Malfoy was pointing to his... Merlin, he's pointing to his bed...

Harry's heart was pounding that mile-a-minute pace that was becoming familiar of late. His mouth open, his eyes on Malfoy, he stepped toward the matress, slowly turned, and sat.

"The books, idiot."

Flushing furiously, Harry leapt upwards, dumping the textbooks he carried onto the comforter where he had sat a moment before. Malfoy's sheets are soft. What? Harry berated himself inwardly. Idiot. What was he thinking. What was he doing here? Why would he assume...

"Look at me, Potter."

Swallowing hard, Harry turned, green eyes meeting grey. Malfoy was watching him with an intently, his expression unreadable.

"Take off your robes"

"What? Malfo..."

"Do not speak unless you are commanded to do so. If you speak out of turn again, you will be punished. Now take it off."

Harry just stared. The Slytherin's whole demenour had changed. He was always commanding but... there was something more powerful in his stance, something firmer in his muscles. His eyes were unwavering, and as he stared into them Harry felt a stirring in the pit of his belly; hot and full of desire. Swallowing again, he pulled his robes over his head, tossing them to the floor beside him.

Malfoy nodded, approval in his eyes though no hint of a smile crossed his face.

"Good. Now the rest."

"A... All of it?"

It happened so quickly, Harry didn't see it coming. In one swift movement, Malfoy closed the space between them and brought his fist into the Gryffindor's stomach in a quick, jolting movement.

"What did I say about speaking out of turn?" Harry nodded his understanding frantically, tears prickling in his eyes as he wheezed, breathless, "yes, all of it."

He moved backwards, allowing just enough room for Harry to manouver, and the Chosen one grasped the hem of the thin black t-shirt he wore with trembling fingers, and peeled it off. When he thought about this moment later, he would tell himself he imaged the hiss that came from Malfoy at the sight of his bare chest, firm and rippled from years of Quidditch, and the way his breathing startedd to become ragged as he stepped out of first his jeans, and then his pants, his eyes glued to the floor.

"Look at me," he knew he must have imagined it... the voice was as solid as before, impossible to refuse. Harry lifted his gaze once more to his blackmailer's, and he felt a stirring in his groin, which only intensified as Draco let his eyes roll down Harry's body, taking a step forward to close the gap between them. Once more he lifted a hand to stroke it gently from eye to chin, but this time, he continued; a slow, steady path over Harry's chest. As he flicked his nail carelessly over the seekers' nipple, Harry let out a small sigh, instantly regretting it at the triumphant look in Malfoy's eyes.

"Yes, you want me, don't you Potter?" he sneered, his eyes never leaving Harry's as he continued his way over his abdomen, sliding to the left to trace the line of his hipbone. Harry shuddered. There wasn't really any denying it, at this point. His cock was speaking for itself, rising, lengthening as though it was reaching for Malfoy... so close, the space between them, so...

"You crave it. You've thought about it for years, I've seen the way you look at me, the thoughts you hide behind your self-righteous shit. I bet you'd love to do some filthy things to me, wouldn't you, Golden Boy?" Malfoy's fingers were tangling themselves in the coarse, tightly spun curls above him now, tugging slightly, here, there. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his heartbeat pounding in his eardrums; he was sure Malfoy must be able to hear it, it was so loud...

"Well? I asked you a question, Potter," Harry was groaning now as he slipped his hand slowly down his length, grasping it as he glided downward. Harry felt himself stiffen still further, and the tip of his cock brushed against Malfoy's own...

"Yes!" he gasped, and Malfoy smiled, tightening his grasp on Harry until the boy gasped again, then releasing him suddenly.

"Get dressed," the smile was gone, and Malfoy was stepping away from him, "and leave."

"What? I thought..."

Draco laughed, looking back over his shoulder, "thought what? I was going to bring you up here and ravish you? Get dressed, you look ridiculous."

Harry glanced down at himself, still firmly at attention and naked in the Slytherin commonroom. Flushing, he reached for his clothes, pulling them on hurriedly, looking anywhere but Malfoy. The Slytherin followed him to the exit, then stood leaning against the archway, apparently waiting for him to leave, the familiar smirk in place.

"You better hurry along. You've missed two classes now, you better start thinking of some plausible excuse. Unless you want tell them you were giving a strip-tease in the Slytherin commonroom, of course."

Harry paused, chancing a glance at the other boy.

"So... that's it?

Malfoy smirked again.

"Oh no, Potter. That is far from it."

-


	7. You catch more flies with honey

Disclaimer: You know the drill. JK made them..

Draco woke early, as always. He had never been one to sleep the day away, not when there were

far more productive ways he could be spending his time. Especially this year; yes, this year

held a special kind of promise. His father had taught him that knowledge was power - Malfoy

smirked at the thought. What Lucius Malfoy would say, if he knew how right he was... and in

what way.

Reaching into the drawer beside his bed, Draco withdrew a perfect rectangle of crisp,

unblemished parchment, and a long feather quill.

Ten O'Clock. Room of Requirement.

There was no call for anything further - without signing it, he rolled the note into a thin

scroll, attaching it to the leg of his owl with efficient, practices movements and waved a

hand at the creature, dismissing it. He trusted the bird would know where to go; Draco almost

respected the creatures' intuition. Almost. A smirk slid across his face as he pictured

Harry's reaction to the note, and as usual, his ability to predict Potter's flustered worry

was right on par - he spotted the Gyffindor instantly upon entrance to the great hall. The

other boy was, predictably, staring at Draco like a deer caught in oncoming headlights;

frightened, and transfixed. Trying not to look too smug, Draco sat, helping himself to bread

and honey. A flash of inspiration struck him, and he took the pot, slipping it into the

pocket of his robes, carefully upright so the sticky substance wouldn't spill.

The day seemed to drag on for an age, but eventually, the evening came. He had been careful

not to give Potter any indication of what was coming; had barely even thrown the boy a glance

the whole day. The prickling sensation he'd felt more than once on the back of his neck let

him know that his nonchalonce was having exactly the intended effect, and a knot of

anticipation had wound itself tight in his belly. After five years, he had the boy where he

wanted him. Finally.

He arrived early, to ensure that things were in order. Of course, the room was even more

intuitive than his owl - no sooner than he'd stepped inside it had laid out his fantasy

before him. A regal, four-poster bed stood in the centre of the spacious room, bedecked in

deep green inlaid with subtle silver. A large wooden chest stood at its base - Draco didn't

need to open it to know it held everything he might want to make use of tonight. Across from

the bed, suspended from the opposite wall, a pair of silver manacles hung open, glimmering in

the dim light created by several softly burning torches mounted on the stone. The wooden

floor was bare, though, Draco noted as he slipped off his shoes, it was not cold to the

touch; rather comfortably warm against his skin. Not that it mattered. Things would be

heating up in here soon, anyway.

A hesitant knock at the door told him his prey had arrived; he'd known Potter wouldn't keep

him waiting. The boy seemed almost eager for this, though he would never admit it - not

unless Draco had a firm hold on his cock, at any rate. He turned, that signature smirk in

place, drinking in the wide-eyed shock shining from those emerald eyes as Harry took in his

surroundings.

"The.. I got your note..." he managed, his voice small. Where was the bravado now, from the

boy who'd fought the Dark Lord on multiple occasions, and lived! A thrill of satisfaction

went through the Slytherin again as he realised he was about to conquor what even HE could

not.

"Obviously." The blonde raised an eyebrow, the cool facade firmly in place.  
>"Do I really need to tell you what to do now?"<p>

Swallowing, Harry shook his head, and reached for his robes, pulling them over his head and

looking around uncertainly, as though unsure where to put the bundle he now held in his

hands.

"The floor will do. And the rest."

Potter paused, as though he might object. Draco wondered whether the Golden Boy thought he

might force him to strip and leave him again, but Potter wouldn't get off so easy this time.

He made to speak again, but before he was forced to repeat his command, something like

resignation flickered into the other boys eyes, and his robes fell with a soft thud to the

floor as he started on the rest of his clothing. While he was distracted with his task,

Draco's eyes were left free to wander over the Gryffindors' body, fit and muscled from his

years of Quidditch and world-changing battles. When his cock was let free, Draco felt his own

stir, though he showed no more reaction than the twitch of an eyebrow.

"Good. Now, on your knees."

Harry looked a little shocked, but complied, his wide, innocent eyes on Draco's face,

uncertain.

"Hands on your knees. Spread your legs, a little wider. Wider. Don't look at the floor, look

at me."

Draco's voice had taken on a commanding tone as he moved toward his nemesis, Harry's eyes

widening with each step he took closer.

"Stay still, now, Potter."

Slowly, Draco began to remove his robes.

-

Harry gulped, his breath a hard lump in his throat. If Ron and Hermione could see him now...

he flushed at the thought. He was naked, on his knees, legs spread before his second-greatest

enemy. The wooden floor was warm against his skin, that was some small mercy, at least. Oh

Merlin, Malfoy was coming closer, he couldn't look...

"What did I say? Eyes on me, Potter."

Harry forced his gaze upwards to find himself staring almost directly at the bulge in Draco's

robes. The Slytherin was only inches from him, and... Oh, Merlin... he was sliding out of his

clothes, piece by piece. His robes he placed carefully on the floor beside Harry's, and now

he was peeling off the thin singlet he wore beneath, revealing that perfect, smooth chest.

Oh, Harry ached to reach up, to slide his fingers down the other boys taught stomach...

"I can tell what you're thinking, Potter."

Harry flushed again, wanting to stare down. He forced himself to look upward, past the boys

chest to his silver eyes, which were fixed knowingly on Harry's own.

"You may not touch me. Only my trousers. Take them off."

Harry gulped again, "You can't be..."

"Do I sound like I'm joking, Potter? Or do you need to be punished again? Take them off.

Now."

With trembling fingers, Harry reached for the waistband of Malfoys thin trousers, sliding

them down over those angular hips, down...

"Oh, Merlin," Harry spoke aloud this time. Draco had neglected to wear pants today, it

seemed, and Harry was faced directly with Malfoy's impressive length. He couldn't help the

tiny thrill he felt at the fact that it was semi-erect, which was less than he could say for

himself. The proximity to Malfoy's naked body had had an undeniable effect on the boy who

lived, and his own cock was standing fully at attention, throbbing slightly as he stared up

at his long-time fantasy.

"Mmm, it is nice, isn't it. If I do say so myself," Malfoy leered, reaching down to lazily

stroke himself, his fingers bringing the tip of his cock barely millimetres from Harry's

nose. His prick hardened further at his own touch, growing, and Harry's lips parted, saliva

pooling in his mouth. Merlin, he wanted to taste the boy...

"In my robes, in the pocket." Harry paused, wondering what horror Malfoy had in store for

him, his eyes widening again as he withdrew the pot of honey.

"Give it to me."

He handed it over, goosebumps breaking out along his spine as their fingers brushed. hen

Malfoy tilted the small pot, and the golden substance inside began to drip onto his no

fully-erect prick Harry's mouth dropped open. He was going to ask him to...

But there was no asking. In one, fluid motion Draco threw the empty pot aside, where it

shattered on the stone wall, and tangled his fingers through Harry's dark hair, pushing

Harry's open mouth forcibly around his sweet, sticky cock. Harry gagged as Malfoy's tip

battered his tonsils, the thick honey dripping into his throat as the boy thrusted against

his face. He spluttered, swallowed, and took it, closing his lips around the boys shaft, his

tongue sliding along its' underside, scooping up the sweet coating and letting him taste

Malfoy beneath. Unconsciously, he lifted his hands, gripping Draco's hips and yanking him

forwards in the rythm Malfoy had created, hungrily trying to open his mouth wider, let the

other boy in deeper... as Malfoy let out a long, unwilling moan Harry's own cock throbbed

harder, yearning for release. He made to reach down, but before his hand had moved an inch

Malfoy's free one was on it, and the boy was smirking, shaking his head.

"Oh no, Potter. Only one of us is going to cum tonight."

And he WAS going to, Harry could feel it. Even in his inexperience with other men, he knew

enough about himself to recognise the pulse that ran through Draco's cock, once, twice;

Malfoy's free hand joined the other on the back of Harry's head, holding him steady as he

exploded. The hot liquid hit the back of Harry's throat in a way he could only describe as

magic, and he swallowed the urge to gag, along with Draco's thick seed.

Panting, Malfoy pushed the Boy Who Lived off him, for once having lost some of his perfect

composure.

"G... good, Potter. Good boy. Now back to your room."

"Malfoy.. I," Harry paused, unsure what to say. Surely that had meant... something? Draco had

liked it just as much as he had, he had felt it, he knew it! Surely this changed things...

But when the Slytherin met his gaze again, his eyes were cold.

"I said back to your room, Potter. I have nothing to say to you, nor you to me. Leave."

His cock painfully hard, Harry grabbed his clothes, hurrying to dress before the tears that

prickled his eyelids, threatening, made their way out.

As he reached the door, he turned again to cast a longing look at the Slytherin boy, but

Draco had his back to him, pulling on his own clothes. Nothing more would be said tonight.

Maybe it really didn't mean anything to him at all, Harry thought sadly as he climbed into

bed, reaching below his blankets to try to relieve the painful erection that was the only

physical evidence of what had transpired that evening. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine

it was Draco's fingers wrapped tight around him... but though he eventually found release, he

could not even imagine what it would feel like for a touch from Malfoy to be tender, loving.

All he could feel was that cold, hard grip as Malfoy forced him to admit how he felt...


End file.
